Myself atop Montaña Machu Picchu. The city of Machu Picchu lies below and Huayna Picchu is beyond that.
We were supposed to get up at 3:00 AM so that we could be at the gates by 5:00, beat the crowds of people and see the Machu Picchu sunrise. But if it were three in the morning, how the hell was sunlight streaming through the curtains from outside our room? I looked at my watch, which told me it was now ten o'clock. Godammit; we had screwed up big time.
"Guys!" I shouted. "Guys, the alarm didn't go off. It's ten in the goddamn morning!"
Ben woke up, looked at his watch, swore.
Max's muffled voice came from the bunk below. "What are you talking about?"
"The alarm didn't go off. C'mon, we gotta get going now before we miss everything."
Another voice, from the lower bunks.
"It's ten o'clock at night."
I looked at my watch again in surprise; looked at the light coming in from the windows.
"That's the light from the hallway," she told me. I looked at the window long enough to believe it (it was very convincing) and then realized she was right.
My relief was mingled with embarrassment. I had only been asleep for one hour.
"Oh, jeez...sorry about that. Good night then."
Take II
The alarm went off this time and the room was the way it was supposed to be: pitch dark and cold. The glowing panel on my watch face confirmed that it was indeed 3:00 AM. I was still sleepy, but alert enough to function and also excited to begin our hike to the ruins. I kicked away the covers and dressed myself for the day.
The hostel had made a small breakfast for us in the lobby complete with bread rolls, jam, butter and steaming cups of tea. I added coca leaves to my mug so that I would have the extra energy. Thus braced with carbohydrates and illegal stimulant, I was prepared for the rigors of the day ahead.
It was completely dark outside. Conveniently enough, I had forgot to bring my headlamp from Cuzco.
We went through the darkness of town and passed to the blackness of the road. A few clusters of headlamps from other hikers bobbed in front of us. We caught up with a few of them and made them whirl around in fear as they heard our footsteps clomping up from behind.
Within half a mile, we got to the bridge/checkpoint across the Urabamba river where we had to show the guards our tickets. Even though it was not quite five yet, they let us cross and begin our hike upwards. There were dots of light from other climbers' headlamps strung out along the trail above us, meaning that park officials had opened the gates far sooner than they were supposed to. All the more reason for us to to hike aggressively and pass people. If we weren't amongst the top 400 hikers, we would lose our chance to get the stamp and ascend Huayna Picchu.
The trail was still dark as we began ascending. We used the light from the other headlamps to guide our footsteps. Terrain varied from steep gravelly dirt to thousands of steps as the path wound up through jungle along a series of switchbacks.
Most of the hikers were ascending in a leisurely fashion but we knew better than to have fun or enjoy the mountain. Too much competition. At every turn there was another group of headlamps, pulling us up and beyond, passed the breathless voices speaking to one another in French or German. Auf wiedersehen suckers!
After about an hour of hiking, we came to the main entrance to the site where 150 or so people waited in line. It was fortunate that we had hiked fast because within minutes after we arrived, the busses from below began to pull in and started offloading their tourist cargo. The line that we had joined soon tripled in size. Still, we were safely within the first 400 and thus eligible for the coveted stamp that would allow us to climb Huayna Picchu. When the official stamper came down the line, Ben and I held our tickets out and got the official approval. Max declined due to the fact that he was feeling under the weather.
We walked passed the final checkpoint, passed the gates and entered into Machu Picchu. Because God doesn't know about literary clichés, the site was in fact shrouded in mist. Our chance to see the sunrise was shot, but the ethereal environment did lend the stone buildings a solemn awesomeness. I could describe all the buildings for you, or you could save me some work and just go to Wikipedia or Google Images. I did feel as though I were appropriately impressed by it all. Trust me; Machu Picchu may be hyped, but it is worth it.
The three of us wandered around the fog and the relatively light crowds until Ben and I walked over to got in line for Huayna Picchu. We had to wait a half an hour for the entry booth to open and about that long for the group of people to pass the gate in front of us. Though the wait was annoying, it made sense. If they didn't stagger the hikers, there would be a crush of people trying to hike the narrow trail all at once.
We signed our names and nationality in the entry book at the gate, and then took off for the top. The slope was steep and almost entirely stairs. Because there wasn't much room to get passed the people walking in front of us we had to push them over the edge of the cliff. It was too bad that they had to fall to their deaths, but then again, I'm sure that this sort of thing happened a lot back in the Inca times.
The hike was short but awesome. It was all steps as I said, and wound clockwise around the spire until it reached the top. Near the summit, the path took us through a narrow tunnel beneath some boulders then took us up a small ladder to the boulder pile summit.
Right beneath us, we could see the stone walls that made The Temple of The Moon. Apparently, the Incan priests used to climb the mountain and hold rituals here. Machu Picchu unfortunately, was hiding inside the clouds. We still got a good deal out of the surrounding mountain giants that towered over us--all brilliantly illuminated by the slant light of the morning sun.
It was a bit hazardous on the way down because the steps were both incredibly steep and tiny. In many places, the ancient rock yielded less than six inches of space for us to put our feet down. For someone in tiny ballerina slippers, this would not have been a problem, but I felt less than comfortable doing it in my clomping hiking boots. There was a decent chance that I would trip up and do a face-plant on some thousand-year old architecture. These hazards didn't stop us from bombing down the rest of the slope at ankle twisting pace.
Back at the checkpoint, the guard was amazed that we had made it up and down so quickly. No, it was no big deal for us--not really. Yes, as a matter of fact we were world class American runners in case you had been wondering.
Max met us back inside Machu Picchu and we did some quality touring time. The fog lifted and sun burned bright and hot. The site had become thick with tourists who were wandering independently or in tour groups. There were plenty of rock hallways to walk down, stairs to march up and llamas to ogle.
The llamas served no real purpose, I heard a tour guide saying except that they look good in photos. It was fun to watch them chew the grass, hop over walls, and give us dirty looks.
Around noontime, I split ways with Max and Ben to pursue my own plans to climb Montaña Machu Picchu, Huayna Picchu's taller bro. Though Huayna usually gets all the glory as the peak behind Machu Picchu in all the pictures, most of those pictures are taken from the slopes of Montaña. Another cool thing about Montaña is that you don't need no damn stamp on your ticket to climb it. There's no line and there are few people you have to share the mountain with.
I made a brief detour to the Inca Bridge, an impressive little thing built along a cliffside and over a huge-ass, movie-worthy drop.
After the bridge, I went over to the Montaña Machu Picchu trailhead. Once again, the way up was over stone steps and through jungle. I was in an expeditious mood and powered up to the top in half an hour. Unfortunately, it was the highest elevation I'd ever climbed to. Mt. Washington was still a far harder, worthier peak, but I planned on correcting this inconsistency when I reached the Cordilleras Blancas.
At the top, I talked to two guys from Boston, who took the picture I placed at the beginning of this blog. You can dimly see Machu Picchu at the bottom.
I also drained the rest of my water bottle here. No biggie. I'd just walk the rest of the way down to Machu Picchu, then down to the bridge, and then the rest of the way to Aguas Calientes where I would go into the nearest shop and buy an orange soda. On second thought, crap!
With the water bottle gone, I finished the rest of my bread and scrambled down off the mountain.
Back at Machu Picchu, I decided that I wanted the full value of my student-rate ticket, so I took another gander at the site. This time, I explored the buildings that were lower on the slope. Even though it was packed with tourists above, (now wearing ponchos in the light rain) this area was practically empty. As I examined the crumbly ashlars and shoddier masonry, it became clear that I had stumbled into Machu Picchu's bad neighborhood. I wandered around until I felt that I had gotten my fill of it all and started down the path back to Aguas Clientes.
Remember that I had finished my water on top of Montaña Machu Picchu? Well by now, about an hour had gone by and I was feeling it. It was raining hard now, the first real rain that I had felt in Peru. Unfortunately, it was not falling hard enough so I could hydrate off of raindrops.
I began to fantasize about orange soda; delicious, refreshing. It would smite fatigue and thirst alike in one tremendous chug. Had an Incan Goddess descended from the sky right then and offered to fulfill whatever I most desired, I might have asked her to point the way to the nearest vending machine.
I went down the trail and its many switchbacks, splashing through puddles. My mouth was cotton dry. I was cold too, but thirst had priority in the suffering hierarchy.
I stumbled up to Aguas Calientes and happily cashed out the three soles for a bottle of Fanta. Outside, I turned it upside down until it was empty. I went back inside and bought a second. Repeat.
After I had consummated my return to civilization, I marched drearily through the rain the rest of the way to the hostel to rejoin Max and Ben. We had a couple of hours until we had to catch our train to Ollantaytambo and I spent that time putting out my wet clothes to dry and making tea.
We rushed down to the train station so that we would be on time for our forty minute wait. All the better because we had a group of weirdos sitting at a table across to us. The happy laughing group was playing a game of hearts or such crap. Every now and then, they would break into loud bursts of childish laugher. They were all wearing the same t-shirt and I needed to kill them all.
It was pitch dark in Ollanta when we got off the train. The tourist hordes filled the narrow street where they migrated en masse to the waiting taxis and combis in the adjoining parking lot that would take them back to Cuzco. We weren't so keen on a night combi so we decided to get a hostel in town. We hadn't even reached the plaza de armas before we found ourselves a descent enough looking hostel on the left side of the street. Sure enough, they had a room for the three of us priced at ninety soles. It was a bit steep, but we took it.
I was hungry so I went back to the train station where there were some street vendors. A pack of Chips Ahoy cookies was plenty tasty, not so bad for dinner. We called it a day.
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